Opinion | Trump finds peace talks with Iran 'boring.' That's disturbing.
How Trump’s new acting intel chief Bill Pulte won him over
In naming Pulte acting director of national intelligence, Trump is rewarding an operative who has used his perch to try to secure political wins.
President Donald Trump named Federal Housing Finance Agency Director Bill Pulte as acting director of national intelligence on Tuesday. | Mark Schiefelbein/AP
Bill Pulte, a regulator charged with overseeing the mortgage market, is taking on a second job acting as the country’s top intelligence official — after rebranding his little-known agency into a major political tool for President Donald Trump.
During Pulte’s tenure leading the Federal Housing Finance Agency, he has played a headline-grabbing role in Trump’s efforts to go after political enemies and establish an affordability agenda ahead of the 2026 midterms.
Pulte, who often joins Trump on Air Force One, has also participated in several executive branch dramas — including an explosive spat with Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent and Trump’s ongoing tensions with former Federal Reserve Chair Jerome Powell.
In other words, Pulte has an unusually high political profile for a financial regulator, with his time at FHFA characterized by fierce loyalty to the president. “Trump loves that,” Stephen Moore, a former economic adviser who remains close to the president, said of Pulte’s willingness to go after Trump’s perceived enemies.
But the housing regulator is also known as an undisciplined and disruptive operator among some people close to the White House, where he has clashed with officials in the past, including over his short-lived and publicly derided pitch for a 50-year mortgage.
“The president has so many smart people at the White House, trusted people, that he could be listening to,” said a former Trump administration official, granted anonymity to speak candidly. “And he listens to Pulte, who just continually fucks things up.”
In naming Pulte acting director of national intelligence, Trump is rewarding an operative who has used his perch to try to secure political wins. Pulte will lead an office created in the aftermath of 9/11 to help the U.S. spy community coordinate intelligence analysis — while keeping his job running the mortgage agency.
The White House called Pulte “a great selection” for the intelligence role.
“The President chooses the best and most talented people to serve in his Cabinet,” White House spokesperson Davis Ingle said in a statement.
Some Republicans celebrated Trump’s choice.
Sen. Bernie Moreno (R-Ohio) posted that he thinks Pulte “will lead the DNI with integrity, cripple the deep state, and always prioritize America’s national security.” And Rep. Claudia Tenney (R-N.Y.), a member of the House Intelligence Committee, said in a social media post that Pulte “has a proven record of leadership.”
But not everyone is a fan of Pulte’s policies or his tactics. Trump’s choice of Pulte for the intelligence role is already facing pushback on Capitol Hill due in part to his lack of prior experience.
Before leading FHFA, Pulte founded a private equity firm with a focus on housing. He also previously served on the board of PulteGroup, a company his grandfather founded and one of the biggest homebuilding companies in the country.
“I thought most of his experience was in the building industry,” said Sen. Thom Tillis (R-N.C.) after Trump announced his plans for director of national intelligence. “I didn’t know he had any national security experience.”
“I don’t see any evidence of qualifications for that job but willing to listen,” Sen. John Cornyn (R-Texas), a Senate intelligence committee member, told reporters Tuesday.
Pulte made headlines last year for recommending the Department of Justice investigate Trump’s political enemies — including Democratic lawmakers, Fed board member Lisa Cook and New York Attorney General Letitia James — over unproven allegations of mortgage fraud, none of which have led to a conviction.
Records obtained by POLITICO through a public records request to Washtenaw County, Michigan, show that Pulte paid the fees to obtain copies of Cook’s mortgage documents on Aug. 14, 2025, and sent a criminal referral the following day.
Trump quickly used the Cook accusations as a basis to try to fire her for cause, a matter that is currently being deliberated by the Supreme Court. The justices have allowed her to continue in her role in the meantime.
Pulte also advocated for an investigation into Powell over the renovation of the Fed’s headquarters, alternating between suggesting the central banker had engaged in criminal behavior and backing Trump’s call for lower rates. He repeatedly called for the then-Fed chief to resign.
“Too bad Jerome Powell is a National Disgrace,” Pulte posted in October.
The DOJ issued subpoenas to the Fed in connection with those allegations, a move that was later quashed by a federal judge, who said they were a pretext to attack Powell over interest rates. The saga at one point threatened to derail the nomination of now-Fed Chair Kevin Warsh, and the administration has now dropped the investigation.
Pulte previously threatened on social media to use his agency’s power to crack down on the nation’s largest homebuilding companies and accused them of limiting housing supply and affordability. Two people familiar with the matter, granted anonymity to discuss closed-door conversations, said he made similar threats in private.
Watch: The Conversation
Ukraine’s ambassador on Trump, Putin and the path to peace
Experts agree the lack of housing in many metro areas puts upward pressure on costs but blame other barriers to construction like local regulations. Still, homebuilders jumped to show their willingness to boost supply. Some offered policy solutions like expanding government support for construction loans and proposed to build 1 million “Trump Homes.”
The housing regulator also recently joined a collection of MAGA influencers in calling for Congress to pass bipartisan legislation aimed at bringing down housing costs heading into the midterm elections. The White House hopes that finalizing the bill will demonstrate to voters that Republicans are working to improve affordability.
Pulte has credited Trump for his moves.
“President Donald J. Trump understands real estate and housing better than any President in history, so it makes sense that under President Trump’s leadership, [FHFA] has done more to help homeownership than any other administration in history,” Pulte told POLITICO in a statement before the president announced his new intelligence position.
The effort to pressure builders reflected the agency’s expanded sense of authority under Pulte.
Norbert Michel, director of the Center for Monetary and Financial Alternatives at the libertarian think tank Cato Institute, said Pulte’s efforts to apply pressure to homebuilders were “bizarre” and far outside the agency’s lane.
“Why don’t you stick to regulating the entities that you’re in charge of regulating?” Michel said in an interview.
It’s a striking evolution from the original mission of FHFA, which was established as an independent agency to safeguard the housing market against the kind of risky mortgage lending practices that had led to an implosion of the global financial system.
During that 2008 crisis, the U.S. Treasury bought a controlling stake in Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, government-chartered firms that purchase mortgages and then package and sell them to investors as bonds, a practice that encourages more home lending. FHFA became the conservator of the two companies, giving the government control over their operations.
That relationship was supposed to be a temporary fix. In spite of Republicans’ hopes to reign in government influence over housing finance, Trump has used FHFA’s footprint to his advantage.
In January, the president announced he wanted FHFA to purchase $200 billion in mortgage bonds from the public market — a drastic move aimed to lower the interest rates homebuyers pay on their loans. Trump directed Pulte to carry out that decision via an evening post on the president’s Truth Social account.
“The FHFA is almost more of a campaign tool right now to promote the agenda and standing of Donald Trump,” said Sharon Cornelissen, the director of housing at the Consumer Federation of America.
The president’s Tuesday morning post gave Pulte a new set of marching orders — entrusting the world’s most powerful intelligence operation to one of Washington’s most controversial financial regulators.
Victoria Guida, Katherine Hapgood, Michael Stratford and John Sakellariadis contributed to this report.
The Boy Who Walked Into the Wedding. The Girl Who Stood Up for the Truth.
At first, everyone thought the boy was there to steal something.
He appeared at the entrance of the grand wedding hall like a shadow that had wandered into the wrong dream.
The ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers, golden curtains, towers of white roses, and guests dressed in silk, satin, and diamonds. Waiters moved between tables carrying trays of champagne. A pianist played softly near the marble dance floor. Everything looked perfect.
And then he walked in.
A skinny teenage boy in dirty white sneakers, an oversized black jacket, and a gray hoodie stained with dust.
The laughter faded.
Heads turned.
Someone whispered, “Is he homeless?”
Another voice muttered, “Security.”
The boy ignored them all.
His dark hair fell over his forehead. His face was pale, smudged with dirt, but his eyes were strangely calm. He walked through the crowd as if he already knew exactly where he belonged.
And then he stopped.
Not in front of the bride.
Not in front of the groom.
But in front of the girl in the wheelchair.
Her name was Clara.
She was sixteen, dressed in a pale-blue gown that shimmered under the chandeliers. Her long brown hair was pinned back with a pearl clip, but her hands were folded tightly in her lap, as if she were trying to disappear.
All evening, people had smiled at her with pity.
They told her she looked beautiful.
They told her she was brave.
But no one asked her to dance.
The boy looked at her and said, “I’ll dance with you.”
The room went silent.
Clara’s eyes widened.
Her mother, standing near the head table, gasped. The groom frowned. The bride placed a hand over her mouth.
Clara looked down at her useless legs.
“I can’t dance,” she whispered.
The boy did not move.
“I can’t walk.”
A painful stillness spread across the ballroom.
The boy slowly held out his hand.
Then he said the words that made every guest stop breathing.
“I’ll make you walk.”
Someone laughed nervously.
Someone else said, “That’s cruel.”
A security guard stepped forward, but Clara raised one trembling hand.
“Wait,” she said.
Her voice was barely audible, but everyone heard it.
The boy crouched in front of her.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Eli.”
“Do you know me?”
His jaw tightened.
“I know enough.”
Clara frowned.
Something about his voice made her heart beat faster. It was not the voice of a stranger. It carried pain. It carried memory.
Her mother rushed toward them.
“Clara, don’t listen to him. He’s confused.”
Eli turned his head slowly.
“No,” he said. “I’m the only one here who isn’t.”
A murmur rippled through the guests.
Clara’s father, Richard Vale, stood from the front table. He was the owner of half the hotels in the city, a man whose smile appeared on charity posters and business magazines.
His voice was cold.
“Remove him.”
Two guards moved in.
Eli didn’t resist. He simply reached into his jacket and pulled out a small silver key.
The moment Clara saw it, her breath caught.
It was shaped like a tiny bird.
Her pendant.
The one she had lost on the night of the accident.
The night everything changed.
Clara’s voice shook.
“Where did you get that?”
Eli looked at her.
“You gave it to me.”
The ballroom erupted in whispers.
Clara’s mind flashed backward.
Rain on glass.
Headlights.
Her father yelling.
A boy screaming her name.
Then darkness.
For three years, Clara had believed the accident was her fault.
She had been told she ran into the road.
She had been told a strange boy tried to help her.
She had been told he disappeared.
But Eli was standing in front of her now.
Alive.
Broken.
Forgotten.
Her father’s face had gone pale.
“Clara,” he said carefully, “this boy is lying.”
Eli stood.
“No. You lied.”
The bride whispered, “What is happening?”
Eli pointed at Richard.
“That night, Clara didn’t run into the road. You did. You were drunk. You hit us both.”
A shocked gasp tore through the ballroom.
Clara’s mother covered her mouth.
Richard’s expression hardened.
“That is insane.”
Eli’s voice cracked, but he kept going.
“You paid people to erase everything. You told the hospital I was a runaway. You told Clara I was nobody.”
Clara stared at her father.
“Dad?”
Richard stepped toward her.
“Sweetheart, don’t let him upset you.”
But Clara was no longer looking at him.
She was looking at Eli.
At the scar near his eyebrow.
At the way his hand trembled.
At the silver bird key in his palm.
A memory struck her so hard she nearly cried out.
She remembered holding that same hand.
She remembered a boy pushing her away from headlights.
She remembered him whispering, “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.”
Clara’s tears spilled over.
“You saved me.”
Eli swallowed.
“I tried.”
The room fell into a stunned silence.
Then Richard said, “Enough.”
He grabbed Clara’s wheelchair handles.
But Eli moved faster.
“Don’t touch her.”
Richard’s mask cracked.
“You filthy little street rat.”
The words echoed.
Every guest heard them.
Phones rose.
Cameras recorded.
Richard realized too late what he had done.
Clara’s hands tightened on the wheels of her chair.
For the first time in three years, she looked at her father not with dependence, but with horror.
“You knew him,” she whispered. “You knew who he was.”
Richard said nothing.
Eli stepped closer to Clara.
“Your legs were injured, yes. But not destroyed.”
Clara froze.
“What?”
Eli looked toward her mother.
“The doctors said she might walk again with treatment. But he stopped it.”
Clara’s mother began to sob.
Richard shouted, “Shut up!”
But it was too late.
Eli pulled a folded envelope from his jacket.
“I found the medical report. The real one.”
Clara’s mother stumbled backward.
Richard lunged for the envelope, but the groom stepped between them.
“Don’t,” he said.
Eli handed the envelope to Clara.
Her fingers trembled as she opened it.
The words blurred through tears.
Partial spinal trauma. High recovery potential. Intensive therapy recommended.
Clara’s lips parted.
High recovery potential.
Not impossible.
Not hopeless.
Her whole world tilted.
For three years, her father had told her walking again would never happen.
For three years, he had kept her weak, dependent, silent.
Why?
Then she looked across the room at the wedding decorations. At the cameras. At the reporters invited to capture Richard Vale’s “charity wedding donation” announcement later that night.
And she understood.
Her wheelchair had made him look noble.
Her suffering had become his brand.
Her pain had sold his kindness to the world.
Clara let out a broken sound.
“You used me.”
Richard’s face twisted.
“I protected you.”
“No,” she whispered. “You buried me alive.”
Eli knelt again.
His voice softened.
“Clara, I don’t know if you can walk far. I don’t know if it will hurt. But I know this.”
He held out his hand.
“You were never as broken as he made you believe.”
Every eye in the ballroom fixed on Clara.
Her heart pounded.
Her body shook.
Fear screamed inside her.
What if she fell?
What if Eli was wrong?
What if everyone watched her fail?
Then she looked at her father.
And suddenly, falling didn’t scare her as much as staying seated forever.
She placed her hand in Eli’s.
A gasp spread through the room.
“Clara, don’t,” Richard warned.
She ignored him.
Eli gently placed one arm around her shoulders.
“On three,” he whispered.
She closed her eyes.
“One.”
Her fingers dug into his sleeve.
“Two.”
The wheelchair creaked beneath her.
“Three.”
Clara pushed down with everything she had.
Pain shot through her legs.
Her knees buckled.
The crowd gasped.
Eli held her tighter.
“Look at me,” he said.
“I’m scared,” she cried.
“I know.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
Her legs trembled violently. Sweat gathered at her temples. Her breath came in sharp, broken bursts.
Then, slowly—
impossibly—
Clara stood.
For one second, no one moved.
No one spoke.
The entire ballroom seemed frozen inside that single miracle.
Then Clara took one tiny step.
Her mother screamed.
Not in fear.
In joy.
The guests erupted. Some cried. Some clapped. Some simply stared as if they had witnessed the world split open.
Clara collapsed into Eli’s arms, sobbing.
“I walked,” she whispered.
Eli’s eyes filled with tears.
“You did.”
Richard turned to leave.
But the doors opened.
Two police officers stepped in.
Behind them stood an older woman in a nurse’s uniform.
Clara recognized her immediately.
Nurse Helen.
The woman who had disappeared from the hospital after Clara’s accident.
Helen pointed at Richard.
“That’s him,” she said. “He paid me to switch the records.”
Richard’s face drained of color.
The officers moved toward him.
“This is absurd!” he shouted. “Do you know who I am?”
Eli answered quietly.
“A man who thought money could erase the truth.”
Richard was handcuffed in front of everyone.
The cameras captured it all.
The perfect wedding had become a public trial.
But the twist was not finished.
As Richard was dragged away, he suddenly laughed.
Cold.
Ugly.
Desperate.
“You think he came back for justice?” he spat at Clara. “Ask him why he really came.”
Clara turned to Eli.
Eli went still.
Richard smiled like a dying snake.
“Tell her, boy.”
The room grew quiet again.
Clara’s voice trembled.
“Eli?”
He looked down.
For the first time all night, he looked afraid.
“I didn’t just come because of the accident.”
Clara’s heart sank.
“What does that mean?”
Eli reached into his jacket one final time.
This time, he pulled out a faded hospital bracelet.
Clara stared at it.
Her name was on it.
But beside it was another name.
Twin: Male.
Clara stopped breathing.
Her mother let out a strangled cry.
“No,” Clara whispered.
Eli’s eyes shone with tears.
“I was in the car too,” he said. “Not as a stranger.”
Clara’s world went silent.
Eli’s voice broke.
“I was your brother.”
The ballroom disappeared.
The guests vanished.
There was only Eli, holding the bracelet between them.
Her twin brother.
The boy she had forgotten.
The boy her father had abandoned because two injured children would ruin the story.
One disabled daughter made Richard look tragic and heroic.
A homeless son proved he was a monster.
Clara covered her mouth.
Memories returned like lightning.
A little boy laughing beside her.
Two children sharing cake with their fingers.
A silver bird pendant split into two keys.
A voice in the dark saying, “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.”
Clara reached toward Eli.
“You were my brother?”
Eli nodded, tears slipping down his dirty cheeks.
“I waited for you to remember me.”
Clara sobbed and pulled him into her arms.
This time, the room did not clap.
No one dared.
Because this was not a performance.
This was a family being resurrected from a grave built by lies.
Her mother fell to her knees beside them, crying harder than either of them had ever heard.
“I thought you were dead,” she whispered to Eli. “He told me you died.”
Eli closed his eyes.
“I almost did.”
Clara held him tighter.
The reporters lowered their cameras.
Even the bride cried.
Outside, police lights flashed against the golden windows.
Inside, Clara stood once more—not perfectly, not steadily, but with Eli’s arm around her and her mother holding her other hand.
Together, they faced the crowd.
The girl who had been used as a symbol of weakness had just exposed the empire built on her silence.
The homeless boy who had been thrown away had returned as the only person brave enough to tell the truth.
And Richard Vale, the man everyone had admired, was remembered forever not for his wealth, his charity, or his grand wedding hall—
but for the night his daughter stood up, his son came home, and every lie he had buried finally learned how to walk.
